


La Petite Mort

by Nanaea



Category: X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: Bad Accents, Bisexual Female Character, Blood Drinking, Bloodlust, Challenge Response, Cunnilingus, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/F, F/M, Femslash, Headcanon, Hot Tub Sex, Minor Violence, Multi, Oral Sex, POV First Person, POV Original Character, Remy's Charm Makes Things Interesting, Self-Insert, The Author Regrets Nothing, Threesome - F/F/M, Vaginal Fingering, of a sort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-10-20
Updated: 2008-10-20
Packaged: 2018-10-14 13:45:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10537716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nanaea/pseuds/Nanaea
Summary: Remy invites Rogue on a vacation far away from their well-meaning friends, where they can work out the peculiarities of their relationship without recrimination. But will their experimentation prove to have deadly consequences?





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ginevrasm](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=ginevrasm).



> This story was written in response to ginevrasm's "Hot Tub" challenge. It was supposed to involve my hubby & I with the X-Man of our choice, but, well ... it went a little weird on me and I left him out. I'm selfish like that. I had this crazy idea, so I pinged Daz to ask her what she thought of it. She was intrigued. So ... yeah. This happened.
> 
> Beta'd by the goddess of X-knowledge: [Dazzledfirestar](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Dazzledfirestar)

When Remy had insisted that they needed to get away somewhere _normal_ , somewhere where nobody knew them, Rogue had scoffed. But now that they were here, away from the prying eyes of the Institute and their nosy, if well-meaning, friends, she had to admit that it was a good idea.  
  
It was easier to work out the peculiarities of their relationship here, where they were anonymous. Where they were free to explore and experiment without fear of recrimination. The past several days had been liberating for both of them. Unfortunately, they both knew that it wouldn't last.  
  
They sat at a small table, in a darkened corner of the restaurant, secluded from the rest of the patrons by more than just the shadows. Their plates had been whisked away half an hour ago, and their second round of drinks were nearly empty. Rogue scanned the restaurant while silently cursing the differences in their tastes and Remy's obstinate refusal to compromise.  
  
"How about that one, over there?" Rogue asked. "In the red dress?"  
  
Remy followed her gaze. "Non." He shook his head. "Unless you wan' dat pretty diamond necklace she wearin', chère?"  
  
"Ya wouldn't," she gasped. Her brow crinkled up in an expression of disbelief.  
  
He looked her in the eyes and said, "Is dere anyting Remy wouldn' do for you?"  
  
The color drained from her face. "Ah don't want the necklace, Rem."  
  
"Didn' tink so." He gave her a gentle smile and glanced around the room. "Dat one, dere look willing." Remy pointed out a scantily clad woman that was chatting up a couple of guys at the bar.  
  
"Too willing," Rogue nixed the idea before it went any further. "What about her?" she asked, indicating a table near the far wall where a woman sat alone, nursing a glass of wine.  
  
"Non. She in no mood for such tings."  
  
"What are ya talkin' about?"  
  
"She sad, chère."  
  
Rogue shrugged. "She looks fine ta me."  
  
"How you not see it?" Incredulity colored his voice. "Look at her. See how she sittin' – like de weight of de world on her shoulders? See how she keep sighin' into her glass, and how her eyes not really seein' anyting 'round her?"  
  
"Well, now that ya mention it..."  
  
Remy's eyes swept the room in search of someone more suitable. "How 'bout dat one?" He gestured at a slender, silver-haired woman a few tables away.  
  
Rogue shook her head. "Too old."  
  
"No she not," Remy insisted. "Women like wine, dey get better wit' age." Rogue scowled at him and he relented. "Fine den. What 'bout her?" He inclined his head in the direction of a young woman sitting at the bar.  
  
Rogue cast a quick glance over her shoulder. "Gawd no!" her voice was a harsh whisper. "She's too young."  
  
"She old enough to drink – den she old enough to play."  
  
"Ah don't care," Rogue stated, a stubborn edge creeping into her voice. "Besides, Ah don't even like blonds."  
  
"Too old. Too young. What left, chère?"  
  
"Plenty, if ya weren't so damn picky."  
  
"Remy not de one dat hard to please."  
  
"And what's that supposed ta mean?"  
  
Remy sighed. He had learned the hard way not to push her when she got like this, so he let it go. "Don' mean a ting, chère. Don' mean a ting."  
  
A small movement drew his attention to the opposite corner where a woman sat alone, reading. Her hair was so dark that it was almost black. Long bangs framed the pale oval of her face and brought out the equally dark brown of her eyes. She wore very little makeup, the one exception being her lips which were stained a deep red. The little black dress she wore bared her creamy shoulders and ended just above the knee. One leg was crossed over the other, and a sensible black slide dangled precariously from her foot as it swung idly back and forth.  
  
"Dat de one," Remy said, nodding to himself.  
  
"Where?" Rogue asked, following his gaze. "Her?"  
  
"Oui."  
  
"Ya sure, sugah?" Rogue scrutinized the woman. "She's alright ta look at, but she seems a bit ... Ah don't know."  
  
"Trust Remy. She de one."  
  


~*~

  
  
I could see the waiter approaching out of the corner of my eye. I ignored him and continued to read. Don't tell anyone this, but I'm a sucker for a sappy romance novel, heaving bosoms and throbbing manhoods notwithstanding.  
  
He stood there quietly for a moment before clearing his throat. "Pardon, mademoiselle." His accent was fake and his cologne was overpowering, but he set the wine glass down with care. "From the couple in the opposite corner."  
  
"Thank you," I said.  
  
With a slight bow, he left.  
  
I picked up the glass and swirled the dark red liquid around the bowl of the glass. It almost looked like blood in the dim light of the restaurant, but it wasn't quite thick enough and it didn't coat the glass the way blood would have. I brought it to my lips and inhaled the bouquet as I took a sip. The wine was full and sweet, with a hint of cherry. I've never been much of a wine aficionado, but even I could tell that this was good – which probably meant that it was expensive.  
  
They were watching me, or rather, he was. I lifted my glass to them and nodded my thanks. He returned the gesture and raised it with a smile that could charm the pants off a lesbian and probably had. That he was attractive was undeniable. I was willing to bet he was tall, in addition to being dark and handsome. But he wasn't the one who caught my interest. The woman did. She looked like she needed a good, hard fuck, and he looked like he could give it to her. So why were they courting me?  
  
A chair slid out from their table, obviously pushed from underneath and clearly an invitation. The man flashed that devastating smile at me again and waited, confident that it wouldn't fail him. The next move was mine. I could go join them, or I could go back to reading my novel.  
  
I'd like to be able to say that I ignored him, but I've never been very good at resisting temptation. And he was so very tempting. I left my book – I didn't feel like bothering with it. Besides, I could always buy another. I fished a few dollars out of my purse and threw it down on the table. Then I grabbed my drink and wended my way through the crowded restaurant to their table.  
  
He didn't get up, and I hadn't expected him to. I sat down in the proffered chair, across the table from them, and smiled. His gaze settled on me and it was then that I noticed his strange, red-on-black eyes. Devil's eyes. I didn't even blink. He wasn't the first demon I had met, and he probably wouldn't be the last.  
  
If my lack of reaction took him by surprise, he didn't show it. "What your name, petite?" he asked in thickly accented English. He had me at 'petite'. I just love a man with an accent. Doesn't really matter what the accent is either.  
  
"Nanaea," the pseudonym rolled off my tongue easily. I may be impulsive, but I am not stupid. Some people believe that to know one's true name gives you power over them. I'm not sure what I believe, but I'd rather not take any chances. "But my friends call me Nan."  
  
"We friends?"  
  
"That remains to be seen," I answered truthfully.  
  
He chuckled at that. "Fair enough. You mind if Remy jus' call you 'petite' den?"  
  
I shook my head. What did it matter to me what he called me? It's not like I was giving him my real name anyway. Besides, I'm sure it made it easier on him – one less name to try and remember in the heat of passion.  
  
I turned my attention to the woman. Her shoulder length hair was brown, except for a bad bleach job on the forelocks. She was wearing her own version of the little black dress. It had spaghetti straps and clung to every inch of her curves, or at least those that were visible from my vantage point. Sheer black opera length gloves completed the ensemble. She was trying to look friendly, but the smile on her lips didn't quite make it all the way to her skeptical green eyes. "And you are?"  
  
"Marie." I was willing to bet it wasn't her real name, but who was I to quibble?  
  
"So, Marie, what's your pleasure?" I could tell my question caught her off guard because the smile melted off her face and left her gaping like a fish out of water. Her companion was stifling a chuckle, but she was too befuddled to notice.  
  
"Ah don't know what ya mean," she said when she finally recovered. Her accent was honest-to-goodness Southern Belle, and I was betting her companion was Cajun. What a pair.  
  
"Are you going to tell me why I'm here?" I arched my right brow at her. "Or would you rather make uncomfortable small talk for the next half-hour?" You would think that the long years of my existence would have taught me some patience, but it never was my strong suit.  
  
"We just thought ya might like some company."  
  
"And what kind of company are you offering?" I looked to both of them for an answer.  
  
"What kind of company you wan', petite?"  
  
"You invited me. I was perfectly content to sit and read." Okay. That wasn't exactly true, but what was one white lie when you were already damned?  
  
Marie shot him a look that clearly said, 'I told you so,' and he pretended not to notice. "Den why you here, an' your book still over dere?" He had me and he knew it. No use feeling irritated by his smug smile.  
  
"Because I want you," I said, and it was the absolute truth. It earned me a glare from Miss White Bangs and a look from the Cajun that would have melted my panties off had I been wearing any.  
  
"Remy like a woman who know what she wan'." He leaned forward, his strange eyes intent. "You ready to get outta here, petite?"  
  
That one question sent a thrum of anticipation through my body. Somehow I managed to tear my attention away from his gorgeous face long enough to glance at the woman. Her expression was carefully neutral. I wasn't sure what to make of it. "We got a suite at the hotel next door," she drawled. "Even got a hot tub in it."  
  
"Lead the way," I said.  
  
Remy pulled out an obscene amount of cash and tossed down several bills. Marie went ahead of us. I watched the tense way she held herself. It only reaffirmed my earlier assessment. She had a nice ass though. My appreciation didn't go unnoticed either.  
  
"Remy got competition?" his hand was a warm, firm presence at the small of my back as he led me out of the restaurant.  
  
"Jealous already?" I retorted.  
  
"Non, petite. But dere sometin' you should know 'bout ma chère," his voice was barely above a whisper and I had to lean closer to hear him over the din. Not that I minded. He smelled spicy and exotic and completely edible. Damn, I was in trouble.  
  
"And what might that be?" I asked.  
  
"She don' like to be touched."  
  
Now it all made sense. No wonder she was so uptight. How do you make a relationship work when one person is afraid of intimacy? I was about to find out.  
  


~*~

  
  
The sun was already setting when we left the restaurant, turning the horizon a dappled orange that bled purple where it met with the deepening indigo of the sky. There was a chill in the late summer air that hinted at colder days to come. Remy slipped an arm around me as we made our way to the hotel. His fingers played over the bare flesh of my arm, raising goosebumps. "You cold as death, petite," he said, coming to a stop in the middle of the parking lot. A second later he had his dinner jacket off and was draping it over my shoulders. "Dere. Dat better, non?"  
  
I nodded, even though I had been fine without the jacket. Far be it from me to discourage a man when he was trying to be gallant. It was rare enough in this day and age that I tended to savor it when it did happen – even if it was unnecessary.  
  
Marie was waiting for us near the entrance to the hotel. She eyed the jacket hanging from my shoulders, but said nothing. Remy slid his free arm around her waist as we passed, pulling her along with us.  
  
The doorman let us in with a polite nod and an equally polite, "Good evening, sir. Mademoiselles." His face was perfectly neutral. I was betting he had seen too many men come in with a beautiful woman on each arm to be surprised. Either that, or he was a really good poker player. Not that I played. No, I preferred more intimate games, even if the skill set was similar.  
  
The hotel was opulent. From the crystal chandeliers to the marble floor, there was no other word to describe it. The staff inside were just as tactful as the doorman, except for the bellhop who was staring at Remy with more than a little envy. His eyes followed us all the way to the elevator before someone, the evening manager perhaps, gave him something better to do.  
  
We rode the elevator all the way to the top floor. Somehow, I wasn't surprised. Marie broke away from us and opened the door with an actual key – not one of those stupid credit cards that never seem want to work.  
  
Where the lobby had been opulent, the penthouse suite was sumptuous. Decorated in an aesthetically pleasing, neutral palate with luxurious touches, it was obvious that the Cajun had exquisite taste and a bank account to match. How did I know it was his tastes and not the woman's? Easy. She was too rough around the edges to fit comfortably into her current surroundings. She didn't have his grace, or his charm. In short, she was too common for such extravagance.  
  
She disappeared through a set of double doors that could only lead to the bedroom. Remy's hand returned to the small of my back, gently urging me to follow. I passed over the threshold to find Marie lounging in the center of an enormous bed. The only things she had removed were her high heels.  
  
Remy took his jacket and my purse from me and laid them in a nearby chair. His hands went to the zipper at the back of my dress and dragged it down so slowly that I could hear each individual tooth separating one after the other. Then he let it fall in an inky pool around my feet, leaving me naked.  
  
The weight of Marie's stare might have been bearable if I couldn't feel the envy twisting inside her gut like a knife. But I could. It left a bitter taste inside my mouth that we both swallowed back down.  
  
Remy began to undress behind me. Even if I hadn't been able to hear him, or feel the disturbance in the air, I would have known by the way her gaze shifted focus, and the look of longing that filled her eyes at the sight of him naked. It made me want to turn around and find out for myself if he was really as delicious as she seemed to think he was, but I was good and held still.  
  
He pressed his long, lean body against mine, his hands resting on my shoulders. "You still cold, petite."  
  
"Poor circulation," I said, shrugging.  
  
"Remy better get you in de hot tub and warm you up then, hmm?" His voice caressed my ears just as surely as his hands caressed my arms. The suggestive tone, combined with his touch, sent shivers racing through my body. I stepped out of my shoes and let him guide me toward the hot tub.  
  
Only after I was settled within the water's turbulent embrace did he join me. He took his time lowering himself into the tub, giving me ample opportunity to enjoy the view. And what a view it was. The strong lines of his body, the ripple of bronzed flesh over lean muscles, the perfect curve of his ass, and his obvious interest all combined to make my body taut with need. He looked at me as if he knew exactly what effect he had on me, and smiled.  
  
A movement behind him drew my attention back to the woman. Marie had scooted closer to the edge of the bed. "Aren't you going to join us?" I asked.  
  
"Ah prefer to watch."  
  
"You'd have a much better view if you were closer."  
  
For a long moment, we just stared at each other. I could feel her curiosity, her fear, her indecision. Then she spoke, "Ah'll get in on one condition." She waited for me to ask her what that one condition was, but I just arched a brow at her. "Ya promise not ta try an' touch me."  
  
I shrugged, as if to say that it made no difference to me either way. I wasn't about to make a promise that I had no intention of keeping. I still had my honor, even if it no longer mattered. She looked at her partner and I felt him brush against my mind. I didn't believe that he could read my thoughts, but there was definitely more to him than I had assumed. I smiled at him and projected my sincerity. He smiled back and, realizing that subtlety was pointless, nodded at Marie.  
  
She slipped soundlessly off the bed and pushed the straps of her dress off her shoulders. The slinky fabric fell around her bare feet. She was completely naked except for the gloves, which she made no move to take off. I wondered why as she joined us. Something told me it wasn't just a kink, or even an attempt at starting a new fashion trend, but I was damned if I could come up with a better reason.  
  
She sat with her arms stretched out along the ledge of the hot tub and simply stared at us. Remy moved closer, drawing me onto his lap in one fluid movement. I closed my eyes and inhaled the spicy scent of his cologne and the clean, soapy smell that still lingered underneath it.  
  
"Kiss him." Marie's voice was low and demanding. I could hear in it the edge of a tremor. Whether it denoted any misgivings on her part, or was simply a sign of her exhilaration, was more difficult to discern.  
  
'So that's how we're going to play this,' I thought.  
  
I opened my eyes to find Remy smiling at me. "You hear de lady," he whispered. "Give Remy a kiss." I could feel the weight of his words like a hand against the back of my neck urging me closer. His strange eyes burned with expectation. He was used to getting his way, of that much I was sure. It would have been a shame to disappoint him. Luckily, I didn't have to. I smiled back, hesitating just long enough to let him know it wouldn't work with me, and then kissed him anyway.  
  
His technique was as smooth and intoxicating as the bourbon that lingered on his tongue. All at once I was on fire with lust, the hunger rising from somewhere deep inside to demand its satisfaction. My hands moved of their own accord, one reaching up into the unruly mass of his hair and the other skimming over the smooth expanse of his chest to slip from view beneath the roiling surface of the water. The soft groan he fed me before he captured my wayward hand only made the hunger raging inside of me worse.  
  
He broke the kiss long enough to reprimand me. "Patience, petite," he whispered."Ma chère don' tell you to touch yet."  
  
Try as I might, I couldn't stop the pout from blossoming on my lips. Remy took it as an invitation to suck my lower lip into his mouth and nibble on it before letting it gradually slip from between his teeth. "No cause for dat," he murmured nipping idly at my lip. "Remy make it worth de wait."  
  
I was about to reply that he had better make sure he did just that when Marie spoke, "What does he taste like?"  
  
I turned to face her and immediately wished that I hadn't. Her eyes glittered in the dim light and there was that same tension about her that I had recognized earlier, in the restaurant. I thought about it for a moment, then answered her, "Like something exotic and spicy that's been marinated in expensive whiskey and served up with a sprig of mint on the side."  
  
"Wow," Marie breathed. She seemed at bit flabbergasted. "Ah don't think Ah've ever heard anyone describe it quite that way before."  
  
Before. The word confirmed my suspicion that this wasn't the first time they had played this game. But why? Was it as simple as a phobia, or was there something more? My instinct was leaning towards the latter.  
  
"Must be dat Mint Julep Remy have," he said, drawing my attention back to him. "You taste like cherries, petite." His fingers brushed over my cheek and slipped behind my neck to pull me in for another searing kiss. His tongue searched every corner, every crevice of my mouth, seeking out each lingering hint of flavor. When he was satisfied that he had tasted everything, he released me. "Dey drop a copper penny in dat glass?"  
  
"I bit my tongue during dinner." Another white lie. A variation of which I had told countless times before. I willed a slight blush to color my cheeks, the heat of the water my ally. "I have an uncanny knack for injuring myself."  
  
"Mmm, let Remy kiss it better." He smiled again, that charming smile that must have been the downfall of many a woman and possibly even a few men, and suited his actions to his words. It took a moment for either one of us to register Marie clearing her throat behind us. Remy released my lips with a soft sigh.  
  
"Touch him," she said.  
  
I glanced at her over my shoulder. "Where do you want me to start?"  
  
"Anywhere." She shrugged. "Just keep your hands where Ah can see 'em."  
  
"Fair enough." I turned back to find Remy leaning back against the side of the tub, arms outstretched, waiting. Those strange eyes were burning with an intensity that left no doubt that he was enjoying himself. And why wouldn't he be when he had two women focused solely on his pleasure?  
  
I lifted my hands and smoothed his hair back away from his face. As I brushed it behind his ears, I let my fingertips play along the edges of them, sliding down the delicate curve until I grasped each lobe between a thumb and forefinger. I kneaded them gently, smiling to myself as his eyes drifted shut. I continued this for a few seconds, then dipped behind each ear and drew my fingers lightly down the sides of his neck and around until they met at the hollow of his throat.  
  
Remy was relaxed now, giving himself over to the sensations I was supplying. A slight grin and the occasional sigh or shiver were the only signs that he hadn't fallen asleep on me. Not that I expected him to. I had never put a man to sleep unintentionally, and I wasn't about to start now. I worked the pads of my thumbs outward along the underside of his collar bones, then pressed them into the dip where the bones met with his shoulders. He let out an appreciative groan.  
  
I felt Marie edging closer, her curiosity almost palpable. I let my hands glide outward along the backs of his arms for as far as I could reach. Then I ghosted my fingers back up the insides until my hands came to rest on his chest. "Nice pecs," I said, splaying my fingers out over the fan shaped muscles. Whatever he might have said in reply was lost in a gasp when I scratched my thumbnails over the twin nubs of dusky flesh beneath my palms, bringing them to stiff attention.  
  
"His ego don't need strokin'," Marie harrumphed. "It's plenty big enough already."  
  
Remy chuckled. "I can tink of sometin' else dat in need of strokin', chère." He opened his eyes to look at her, not quite pleading – more like coaxing. I wisely kept my eyes focused elsewhere and my hands still. After all, I was sure he had a lot more practice handling her than any amount of feminine instinct, no matter how well honed, could ever make up for.  
  
"Fine," Marie sighed. "Go ahead an' touch him."  
  
I wanted to be sure she was really fine with it before I made another move, so I looked her right in the eyes. What I saw there was a steely determination. She had accepted that she would never be able to give him what he needed and that she could either turn a blind eye to his philandering, or she could control it. Frankly, I was impressed by her decision, even though I doubted it was truly necessary.  
  
"Go on, wrap your hands around his cock." She rolled her eyes at me. "Ah know ya want to."  
  
I did as she bid me, one hand sinking below the surface of the water while still keeping my gaze focused on her. Remy made a soft sound in the back of his throat as my fingers closed around him. The conversation, combined with the lull in action, had dampened the urgency of his desire.  
  
"Mmm," I made the sound pure sex and watched her body shudder in reaction, her nipples tightened despite the warmth of the water. "I can feel him growing in my hand ... so long ... so thick." I licked my lips and her eyes followed the path of my tongue. "You're a lucky woman." I smiled at her confusion. "Don't ever let anyone tell you that size doesn't matter. There's nothing like the feeling of someone hitting the very end of you. Stretching you. Filling you so completely that you wonder if there's even room left to breathe."  
  
"A-Ah wouldn't know..." she stammered, blushing.  
  
"You could," I said. She started to protest, to fall back on familiar excuses, but I shushed her by raising a finger to my lips. I could feel the tension mounting in both of them. Remy was hard as steel beneath my hand, his hips rocking, soft groans spilling from his perfect lips. Marie was rigid, torn between lust and fear. "You could feel what I feel. The contrast of him. So hard, and yet so velvety soft. So strong, and yet so easily broken. You could have him Marie. All you have to do is let go of your fear."  
  
"N-no. Ah can't. It ... it's not that simple." She was gripping the edge of the tub so hard that her knuckles were blanching white under the shadow of her gloves. Perhaps it wasn't, but I intended to break her regardless. It was just going to take a bit more effort than I had anticipated.  
  
Remy's hand caught my wrist in an iron grip. "You gonna end de fun before it begin, petite, you keep dat up." I wasn't sure if he was talking about what I was doing with my hand, what I was doing with Marie, or both, so I just nodded and backed off.  
  
"Rem, show her how that silver tongue of yours is good for more than just sweet talkin' the ladies."  
  
"With pleasure, chère." He graced me with a wicked smile. Before I even had time to quirk an eyebrow he had our positions reversed and was lifting me out of the water. I sat on the edge of the tub, my hands instinctively gripping at his shoulders. His fingers skimmed over my thighs, easing them apart as he rose up on his knees between them. Then his hands were roaming upwards, learning my curves, while his lips blazed a path up the center of my body.  
  
He took his time, tasting ... touching ... teasing. At last his hands cupped my face and he pulled me down into another kiss. The tip of his tongue traveled along my jawline. His teeth nibbled at my ear lobe. "You jus' relax an' let Remy's charm work its magic, petite," he breathed in my ear, sending shivers down my spine. I knew what he was asking, and I wondered briefly if I would regret it, but I was too intrigued to care.  
  
Then he was kissing his way back down my neck. I let my head fall back and his hands wrapped around my body to steady me. His tongue dipped into the hollow at the base of my throat and trailed down between my breasts, following the route he taken on the way up.  
  
My hands slipped off his shoulders, over his biceps and down his forearms as I leaned back onto my elbows. In response, his hands shifted to my hips. His tongue delved into my navel and I gasped at the sensation. Remy looked up at me, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, desire burning in the depths of his demonic eyes. Then his gaze dropped. A moment later his head followed and I couldn't hold back the sigh that welled up when his tongue began to lap at the swollen heat between my thighs.  
  
I stared down at him and watched him feast on my body, the sight alone nearly enough to make me come undone. Glancing up, I found Marie rapt. I could see her lips moving, murmuring something ... instructions perhaps, or wordless sighs of longing. Prayers that might never be answered if she remained unwilling to take a leap of faith.  
  
I had to look away from her. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back, determined to lose myself to the feeling of his tongue flicking over the exquisitely sensitive bundle of nerves cradled at the apex of my sex. I concentrated on the tension slowly building inside, breathed into the tight ball forming deep in my core, filling it with potential, and watched it expand until the pressure became too intense to be contained. A pulse. A heartbeat. A single moment suspended in time. Then it burst and every nerve, every fiber, was on fire with pleasure. It raged through my body, tearing a primal sound of ecstasy from me.  
  
That's when I felt it, that touch, that brush of power that was the Cajun. I didn't fight it. Marie gasped and then my toes were curling again. Orgasmic aftershocks shook my body, setting off a series of tremors. When I could think again, I pushed myself up to find Marie looking for all the world like she had gotten a dose of it too. At first I chalked it up to a little self-indulgence, but then I noticed that the gloves where still on and still dry.  
  
"That's a neat trick," I said, slipping back into the tub beside him. "But it's only a pale shadow of the real thing, isn't it, Marie?" The self-satisfied smirk was fading from his handsome features even as I turned to face his partner. "How you must long to feel it firsthand. To be the one that's spread out before him like an all you can eat buffet. To feel his tongue slipping between your –"  
  
"Stop it!" Marie yelled. "Just, stop. Why are ya doin' this ta me?"  
  
"Because," I said, inching closer to the edge of the seat. "I want to help."  
  
I launched myself forward. I must have moved faster than either of them had thought possible, because they both seemed surprised. Unfortunately, I wasn't fast enough. Remy managed to grab hold of me, stopping me a hair's breadth from Marie's outstretched hands.  
  
"If you value your life, ya won't touch me." Her voice trembled almost as much as her hands.  
  
"Is that a threat?" I asked. I wasn't mad, just curious.  
  
Remy's arms were wrapped tightly around me, holding me back. It pressed me against his chest and other, more entertaining, bits. Bits that were now flaccid. It served to prove how serious my indiscretion had been. "Non, petite. It jus' a fact."  
  
"What is?"  
  
Marie sighed. "That my touch is dangerous. Ah can absorb a person's memories, their feelings, their personality, through my skin. And, if the contact lasts too long, their life."  
  
"Then it's a good thing I'm already dead." My pronouncement caught them both off guard. Remy's grip on me went slack, and he started muttering something in French that sounded suspiciously like necrophilia. I took the opportunity to slip away from him and move closer to Marie.  
  
"You are Vampire," I said, cocking my head to study her. "Like me?"  
  
"No. Ah'm ... no," she stammered. She stared at me, an odd expression on her face, then turned on Remy. "Trust you, ya said. She de' one," she mimicked his accent. A scowl creased her forehead. "Damn you, Remy!"  
  
I moved while she was distracted and had her pressed against the side of the hot tub before she could react. The audacity of my actions must have stunned her, because she wasn't fighting me. My mouth covered hers, and I took advantage of her slack-jawed astonishment to slip my tongue inside. She stiffened at the intrusion for a moment, and then she relaxed into the kiss. A small moan echoed between us. Then hunger was consuming me, rushing up my throat, flooding my mouth, pouring into her.  
  
Marie started to struggle against me, her hands clawing frantically at my arms, trying to push me away. I let her go, gasping, clutching at my stomach. I felt empty. The always present hunger gone. I looked at Marie and she was doubling over, wrapping her arms around her waist, groaning. "Ah gawds!"  
  
"What de matter, chère?" Remy asked, raw concern coloring his voice. It was obvious that he wanted to go to her, to comfort her, but he held himself back.  
  
She raised her head and met my eyes. "How do ya stand it?" she gasped. "How do ya live with this hunger?"  
  
"I feed it." I reached out for her and Remy grabbed my arm. I glanced down at where his fingers dug into my flesh, and then up into those strange, red eyes. "Let go."  
  
"Non. Remy don' tink so."  
  
"It's alright, Rem," Marie panted, still hugging her midsection. "Let her go."  
  
"You sure, chère?" Marie nodded and he reluctantly eased his grip on my arm. "You hurt her, ma petite morte, an' Remy make sure you don' ever hurt anyone else. Comprenez?" The whispered warning was cold as ice and left no doubt in my mind that he would make good on his threat if I gave him cause. Fortunately, I had no intention of doing anything that would incur his wrath.  
  
I nodded and he let me go. I held a hand out to Marie, unwilling to make the first move while the Cajun's burning gaze still held so much undisguised animosity. She came to me without any sign of misgiving. She needed me to help her quell the hunger that was raging inside of her and she knew it.  
  
She placed her hand in mine, the drag of the damp tricot of her glove sending a shiver through me. Remy sat back down, still eying me warily. I pulled her up against my body. Marie groaned as I ran my fingertips down her spine and lower, until they came to rest on her ass. "Please," she begged, nuzzling my neck as instinct took over. She grabbed my shoulders and I felt her lips brush against my throat a second before her teeth sunk into my flesh. It drew a moan from me, made me want to feel her tongue lapping at the wound, her mouth sucking at it, but I knew I had to stop her before it came to that. I fisted my free hand into her hair and yanked her head back, painfully breaking her hold on me.  
  
The whimper of disappointment that escaped from her lips sent a jolt of desire stabbing into my core. "You don't want to do that, Marie," I whispered against her ear. "Not when there's another way."  
  
She looked at me, lost and wild-eyed.  
  
"One hunger feeds off another." I brushed my lips across hers and felt her shudder. "They don't call it blood-lust without reason. Feed one, and you feed them both."  
  
"How dat possible?" Remy asked.  
  
Even if I had known the answer, I wouldn't have been able to explain it to him because Marie had claimed my mouth in a desperate kiss. Her lips pressed against mine with fierce determination. It was a good thing I didn't need to breathe, or she would have choked me with her tongue. She was clinging to me as if her life depended on it, her fingers digging into my shoulders with bruising strength. I knew I had to gain control of the situation soon, but she was so damn strong that it was going to be next to impossible.  
  
I managed to wedge a knee between her legs and slide my hand into the space it created. The second my fingers grazed the tangle of curls between her thighs she gasped. Her grip relaxed by increments as I stroked a finger along the edges of her hidden slit. When my fingertip found the pearl shaped bundle of nerves, her head fell back and a moan bubbled up her throat.  
  
"That's it, Marie," I whispered encouragingly as I stroked her clit. "Let me feed you."  
  
She shuddered, her body pliant under my hands. I eased her back against the side of the tub and concentrated on bringing her to her peak quickly, hoping it would ease the raging fire in her belly. It didn't take long until she went tense again, a strangled cry escaping her lips.  
  
Before she could come fully down, I wrapped my hands around her waist and urged her out of the tub. I knelt on the ledge between her thighs, my hands and mouth duplicating the path Remy's had taken over my body earlier. When I reached her lips she was waiting. Her hands tangled in my hair, cradling the back of my head and pulling me up to meet her urgent kisses. I let her have her fill before I broke away, whispering promises of pleasures yet to come.  
  
I knew the Cajun watching us intently. I could almost taste his growing arousal. Feel it on my tongue, thick and heavy. Bittersweet. He longed be the one touching Marie. Tasting her soft lips, her creamy flesh, her honeyed juices. His desire ignited my own. It carried me back down her torso, suckling at her breasts, exploring her navel, and, finally, delving between the plump folds of her sex.  
  
Marie gasped, squirming, and I wrapped my hands around her hips to keep her still. I licked my way up to her clit and then sucked it into my mouth. Her back arched up off the floor as I began to work the nubbin with my tongue and teeth. A string of incoherent curses filled the air. Her hands were grasping ineffectually at the carpeting. She was close and so was the Cajun. I could feel him looming behind me. Then she broke, her body convulsing with pleasure.  
  
I let her down slowly, lapping up the nectar that flowed from her core. I had barely released her when the Cajun grabbed my face and turned me so that he could plunder my mouth. He groaned when his tongue discovered the flavor of his lover and lingered until every last trace of her essence had been savored. When the kiss was over, we both turned our attention back to Marie.  
  
She was propped up on her elbows, watching us from under heavy lidded eyes. Remy grinned at her. "You taste good, chère." A shiver passed through her at his words, and I smiled. I barely repressed the same reaction every time he spoke. His hands on my shoulders, however, did send a shudder racing through my body. "We not done wit' her yet, petite," he said, voice low and husky. "Are we?"  
  
"No," I shook my head. "We're not."  
  
"Bon." Remy's hand slid down my right arm until he grasped my wrist. "You gon' be my hands," he said. I nodded and he lifted my arm, guiding my hand towards Marie's face. His hand slid over mine as I reached out to cup her cheek. Marie turned into the touch, her eyes drifting shut. I let Remy's fingers direct mine. They trailed over her lips and down her throat, then paused.  
  
His lean body pressed tighter against my back. His free arm reached around to bring my other hand into play. Following his lead, we traced her collar bones. Our fingers skimmed over her shoulders and flowed down her arms, stopping to make spirals on the insides of her elbows and wrists along the way.  
  
Marie trembled beneath our touch, panting softly. Remy was silent, but I could feel his heart pounding against my back – hear his pulse singing through his veins. I was caught up in the intensity of their emotions, the conduit through which their long repressed desire found its expression.  
  
Our hands traveled back up her arms to fondle her breasts, our thumbs stroking over her nipples. Marie gasped as we plucked at them. Then we were moving lower, traveling along the contours of her body. Her thighs were still spread wide and we pressed the thumb of our left hand against her clit, rubbing the sensitive bundle of nerves rhythmically while our right hand strayed downward to tease her inner thigh with butterfly-light touches.  
  
Marie's head was thrown back in utter abandon, and she was making soft sounds of enjoyment. Remy's fingers were slowly retreating from my right hand until he held my wrist once more. Then he was guiding my fingers towards her slick entrance. "Fuck her, petite," he breathed against my ear. It sent a shudder through my body that was transferred to Marie when I slid two fingers into her tight heat. Remy's grip on my forearm directed my movements, pulling my hand back and then thrusting it forward, drawing a moan from her.  
  
He kept his hand on my arm for several strokes, setting a slow, tantalizing pace. When he was satisfied that I had the rhythm, he let go. His left hand still helped me work her clit, but his right drifted down between my thighs and urged them apart. Then he was pressing his thick length into me, filling me with his hard cock. It felt amazing and I faltered in my attentions to Marie until Remy began to move inside me. My hand took up his rhythm, driving into Marie when he thrust into me and pulling back when he did. Soon, my gasps and sighs were mingling with Marie's moans, which were increasing in volume and intensity.  
  
I felt her muscles tighten, squeezing my fingers as they stroked in and out of her as if to get every last bit of pleasure to be had from them. Her thighs tensed and her body shook. Remy ground my thumb against her clit and she screamed his name as she came. A second later her ecstasy slammed into me like a tidal wave. It picked me up and tossed my body into a fathomless ocean of bliss. I struggled for the surface, but Remy's voice lured me back like a siren's song. "Don' fight it, petite." A shudder rippled down my spine. I let him pull me under and then I was drowning.  
  
Remy struggled to maintain control, even as I came apart around him. Marie was still writhing beneath my hands, despite the fact that they had stopped moving. Remy thrusts were becoming more and more erratic. My fingers curled inside Marie and she cried out again, her back arching up off the floor. Her orgasm echoed through me, not as strong as before but still enough to set off fireworks behind my eyelids. Remy cursed in French, succumbing to the pleasure flowing between us with a groan that made my body tighten around him even more.  
  
He stayed pressed close to my body as he wound down. I slipped my fingers free of Marie's body and he caught my wrist again, pulling my hand towards his mouth. A tremor passed through me when his tongue darted out and began to lick my fingers. Then he wrapped his lips around them, one at a time, and sucked them clean.  
  
Marie had regained her senses and was sitting up again, watching us. "How do you feel?" I asked.  
  
"Never better, sugah." She smiled and a small part of me breathed a sigh of relief. The last thing I needed was an angry Cajun on my hands.  
  
Remy slipped out of me and was pulling me back over to the opposite side of the hot tub with him. "What we gon' do now, petite?"  
  
"That depends."  
  
"On what?" he asked.  
  
"On you."  
  
Marie slipped back into the tub. "Is this the part where you offer ta turn us into vampires?" she asked.  
  
"No." I shook my head. "You're already like me, whether you care to admit it or not. Besides, I couldn't guarantee that your death would solve your rather unique problem. And then you would be forced to kill in order to survive regardless of how you chose to feed."  
  
Marie stared at me for a moment, not speaking. Then her gaze shifted to Remy. She closed her eyes, shaking her head. "Ah can't..."  
  
"Is dere anything Remy wouldn' do for you, chère?"  
  
She opened her eyes again, and they were filled with pain. "No."  
  
Remy pulled me onto his lap again and I straddled him. His body was relaxed beneath mine, but I could feel the apprehension he kept so carefully hidden. It was obvious by his lack of response to the nearness of my flesh. He let his head fall back against the edge of the tub, silently offering me his blood. Seeing the vulnerable line of his throat exposed so willing brought the hunger roaring to life again. I trailed a line of kisses down from his stubbled jaw to where his pulse throbbed through the thick artery in his neck. Then I closed my mouth over it and sunk my fangs into that rich, life-giving stream.  
  
From the first rush of spicy heat across my tongue I was lost to the blood lust. My vision went red until all that was left was the feel of his body growing hard under mine, his fingers digging into my arms. His heart beat like a caged bird against my breast, and I was intent on setting it free. I sucked harder and he bucked against me. The groan that rolled up his throat as he spilled his seed was sweet music to my ears. Spent, he relaxed into my embrace. But I didn't have time to savor his acquiescence. Marie's hands fisted into my hair and dragged me off of him. Then she sent me hurtling out of the tub to land hard on the floor at the foot of the bed. The action dazed me momentarily, but it helped clear the blood haze from my brain.  
  
"Remy? Oh gawd, Remy! Please...?" I looked up to see Marie with a gloved hand pressed over the wound on the Cajun's throat. Tears rolled down her cheeks.  
  
"What wrong, chère?" Remy's voice was weak.  
  
"Ah couldn't let you do it, Rem. Ah just couldn't." She sniffled. "I love ya too much to watch ya die."  
  
His hand reached up to stroke her hair. "Shh, chère," he soothed. "Don' cry. Remy still alive."  
  
"Not for long," I said. I hated to interrupt their moment, but the Cajun was fading fast. "Not unless you let me help. The anticoagulant in my saliva has to be neutralized before he bleeds to death."  
  
Marie turned to look at me, confusion and fear waring for dominance over her features. "What? How?"  
  
I pushed myself up off the floor and took stock of my injuries. They were minimal. A few sore muscles, nothing more. I walked over to the edge of the tub and looked at them. "With my blood. If you still trust me?"  
  
Marie looked at Remy, took in how pale he was, and then nodded. I lowered myself back into the tub and approached them. "Ready?" I asked. She nodded again. I brought my wrist up to my mouth and bit, drawing blood. "Lift your hand," I instructed. She pulled her hand away and two rivulets of blood began to trickle down his neck again, pumping in time with his slowing pulse. I ran a fingertip over my wrist, collecting the blood and then I rubbed it into one of the holes. Smoke rose from the wound as it closed and Remy gasped. I repeated the process with the other mark, then I smeared the rest over my wrist closing my own wound.  
  
"Will he be all right?" Marie asked.  
  
I nodded. "With some rest and plenty of rare steaks, he should be fine."  
  
Remy lifted his head and blinked a few times, his strange gaze focusing on me. "Come here, ma petite morte," he beckoned softly.  
  
I leaned in closer, thinking he meant to say something and wanted to make sure that I heard him. His hands reached up and he pulled me closer, his mouth claiming mine in a very tender, very thorough kiss.  
  
When he finished, he whispered, "Give that to ma chère for me."  
  
"Gladly." I gave him a smile, then turned and gave Marie her kiss.  
  
She sighed when I let her go. "Ah'm gonna miss that."  
  
"What will you do now?" I asked.  
  
"We'll make it work," Marie assured me. "We always do."  
  
"Oui. Don' worry your pretty little head 'bout us, petite."  
  
"All right, then." I smiled and nodded. "I won't."  
  
I climbed out of the hot tub and grabbed a towel from the stack on the vanity. Remy and Marie watched while I dried off then donned my dress and shoes once again. I retrieved my purse, then paused with my hand on the door knob. "If you ever change your mind, or even if...." I stopped myself before I said something I might regret later. I was a solitary creature by nature. And, as much as I had enjoyed our little ménage à trois, it wasn't something I wanted to make a habit of. "Well, you know where to find me," I finished.  
  
Marie nodded and Remy flashed me his charming smile one last time. Then I turned and left.  
  


~fin~

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to the god that is S.L. I'm just borrowing them to live out my own twisted fantasies. I do this purely for my own enjoyment. I make no money from it, claim no rights to it, and have a mortal fear of lawyers.


End file.
